


Trials of a Puppet

by Achlys (Nightmarionne)



Category: Five Nights at Freddy's
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 18:23:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9778853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightmarionne/pseuds/Achlys
Summary: "What have you done to me this time?"Alone and cold, the marionette awakes in a narrow, gloomy ally to glimpse a purple shoe leaving him.Only one thing has changed.Just one.He's human.Confused and angry, the marionette searches for answers and discovers new horrors, hidden from him for decades. Join him as he faces his most difficult challenge yet;Life.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, I started this story on quotev, but all the fan fic I was reading was here, so I decided to upload here too :). This story is ongoing but I can't garuntee regular updates; bare with me and I'll try to get as much out to you as possible :)  
> Also, the first few chapters are pretty short, they just give a bit of backstory, it'll make sense soon... I hope!  
> Thanks guys. :)  
> A.

Where am I?  
Why am I cold?   
Why is it so dark?

The marionette's eyes snapped open and he took in his surroundings. A cold, damp alley, gloomily lit with shadows clinging to the corners as if the light were poisonous; he could relate. The floor was a cobbled stone, wet and slimy, covered with chewing gum, discarded and trodden underfoot many a time until it had become part of the ground. The walls loomed over him, crumbling bricks, a dirty brown, covered with pipes going this way and that. Movement. Marionette's eyes shot up and managed to catch a fleeting glimpse of the heel of a purple shoe. Purple. He should've known as much. A rat scuttled past, moving with the shadows, avoiding sight, smart rat. Marionette tried to get up off the dirt ridden ground and immediately fell to the floor. He got a look of himself for the first time since he had awoken.   
What was he? He wasn't himself, that was for certain. And what the hell was on the end of his legs? Where there should have been a graceful, well carved thin stump, were strange flat... things... Feet! The word came to him and he was momentarily pleased with himself, until it sunk in. Why did he have feet?

Oh God.  
He was human.

 

A sharp, shrill sound pierced the air and he realised it was him. He had screamed. That was new. His new body seemed to be convulsing violently, also new. He was a wreck, that's what he became aware of in that instant. His limbs flailed in a pathetic sort of way, like a fish out of water. He had no control over them, but his mind, well, his mind had always been a twisted, dark place where no one should ever dare go. It was still a finely tuned instrument, complex and cunning. That was the one thing that would never fail or betray him. He felt a smile spread on his face, it felt nice, natural, it was everything a smile shouldn't be: cold, knowing, twisted, it was right, it was who he was. Then he felt his mind slow, his smile contorted into a grimace and everything slowed down, his head was spinning and he felt his face hit the ice-cold cobbles and his eyes roll into the back of his head. He heard one thing as black spread across his mind, abstructing his thoughts and senses;  
"Mr. Puppet, please wake up Mr. Puppet, I want to play."

"Lauren, come back here! What do you think you're-"  
She didn't finish her sentence. She looked down at her daughter, who was in turn looking down at the limp, unconscious body of a teenage boy. His skin was as pale as the moon and his hair as jet black as the night. His body was slumped against the wall, with his head resting on the filthy floor. She wanted to just walk away, take Lauren and walk, she wasn't all too sure what stopped her. Maybe it was the mother in her, she did back away though. She wasn't sure what it was about him, but she could feel it, sadness, anger, darkness.   
"Mummy, it's Mr. Puppet, " whispered Lauren, in awe of this look alike that she'd found.  
"I think he needs help, can we help him mummy?" She asked, still whispering as if not to disturb him. Steph was never one to quash dreams, especially not those of her daughter's. She let out a deep sigh, which echoed more ominously than she intended.   
"Of course we can help him honey, but I think he needs someone else's help." She began searching through her mess of a handbag until she found what she was looking for.   
"Come and stand with mummy while we get Mr. Puppet some help." She told her daughter. Lauren complied and took hold of her mother's outstretched hand. A wave of relief washed over her, as if she knew she could assure her daughter's safety again.  
"999, ambulance please, yes, we've found a boy in an alley and he's unconscious, yes, yes, I would think so, about 16 or 17. Okay, thank you." She let out a small sigh as she hung up. "They'll be here in ten minutes." She told her daughter, who just smiled slightly and went back to idolising the boy. Stephanie took a second look herself and realised the stark similarities between this boy and the "puppet" Lauren adored. His cheek bones were sharp and the rest of his features prominent too, his nose though was quite small and slim, set back in his face as though it was put there as an afterthought.  
Then he moved.  
Just one thing, a slight twitch of his mouth, setting it back into a smile, his default expression it would seem. But the smile was all wrong. It was anything but happy, it was sad and twisted and... evil. It promised revenge, to anyone who had done anything to wrong it, she was glad she hadn't ever seen him or had the chance to cross him, she knew she would regret it. Aside from the dripping of rancid water into drains, she heard a new noise arrive, sharp and shrill, a siren. The ambulance, thank god.  
That was when he woke.


	2. I dreamed a dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter 2, giving a bit of context to the story. Enjoy and I'll be back soon with more, thanks for reading :)  
> A.

Closing time.  
The relief washed over the marionette as he sank into his box. He loved the children, he really did, but he loved closing time even more, the peace, the unrelenting silence, it was perfect. Only broken by the gentle, delicate notes that chimed out of his music box, it was a beautiful thing with a wind up handle. It was a deep purple, just like the tears that ran down his face and had pictures of the characters of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza carved into it. Death couldn't have been nicer, he decided.   
"AGH!"  Short, sharp, shrill. It was a scream, the sound of pure, animal terror.  
No one should be here...  
No. Not again.  
The Marionette sprung up, out of his deep purple and royal blue present box, by day he was confined by his strings, but he was something more than a puppet at night, something much more. He sped down the corridors, rooms and posters flashing by, why wasn't there more noise?   
"AAGH." Once more, good, he wasn't going to be too late, not this time, never again, he had made a promise. He flew into the store cupboard and what met his dark eyes was nothing less than malicious, ferocious brutality. He had tried to forget that day, erase it from his memory, lock it in a box and melt the key. But it all came flooding back to him.  
And he hated it.  
The limp, lifeless body of a child, no older than four was left, spread-eagled on the maintenance table. The table was bathed in deep red blood and made a solemn dripping noise as it splattered on the floor. The child was a cut up, mangled mess of limbs and shattered white bone. If he could of, the marionette was pretty sure that he would have thrown up. But he couldn't, so he didn't. He knew who was responsible, of course he knew. But he couldn't do anything. Not now. All he could do now was give a gift that had been given to him. All he could do was give life. He picked up the wreck of the child he saw and, careful not to spread blood everywhere, carried him down the corridor. As he carried the child, he saw what had happened. Just like him. Right through the heart. A heart that mere hours ago was happy, careless, free, was now in his hands, still, un-beating and as dead as you could get. But you don't need a heart to live. Just a soul. And this soul was still here. For what it's worth, I'm sorry. I'm sorry this happened to you, and I'm sorry I'm too late, but I'll give you new life, and a place to be safe. He approached the gravely still suit of Bonnie and placed the abused corpse inside. He supposed that the worst part of this was the joy taken in doing so. Joy. His fists clenched as he screamed silently, for how can a marionette scream when it's lips are unable to move?   
Where am I? Where are my mummy and daddy?  
They're not here.  
When will they be back?  
... They want you to stay with me for a bit, wouldn't that be fun?  
I... suppose so, are they coming to pick me up soon?  
I, I, don't know.   
But I want to see my mama. Please Mr Puppet, let me see my mama and papa.  
Don't say that.  
Mama... papa... MAMA!  
THEY CAN'T HEAR YOU NO ONE CAN HEAR, PLEASE STOP!  
Please... just stop.  
Great going, it's crying now.  
I'm sorry, but i'll be your papa. I'll look after you, please don't cry.  
The spirit continued whimpering and crying quietly, despite his efforts to comfort it. It looked at him with pearly, unseeing eyes, as blank as a canvas. It stared at him, with such vigour that the puppet thought it was trying to read it's mind. Eventually the spirit dropped its gaze and bowed its head in defeat and acceptance. As the puppet kept an eye on the spirit and was concealing the child's body, a single, solitary tear carved a path down the corpses face. This was the last thing it ever did. The puppet glanced at the spirit and allowed itself a moment of sadness as it watched the tiny child bite back tears.  
How old are you?  
Six tomorrow...  
We can have a party, all to ourselves with cake, and balloons, and-  
Papa?  
The puppet was rather taken aback by this, but happy all the same that the child was accepting what had happened and trying to move on.  
Yes?  
Am I safe now?  
The puppet felt a mix of anger and hatred boiling up inside of him. Damn that bloody guard.  
Yes, you're safe. I won't let anyone else hurt you. Never.  
Thank you papa.  
The child's spirit dissolved in front of the puppets eyes as it smiled at the welcoming, outstretched hand of death.

The puppet's eyes snapped open. He was greated by a strange sight, one he could not comprehend, for he had never encountered it before. All he was aware of and able to understand was a warm, sticky feeling around his torso. He looked down and realised why this was all he could register. He was enshrouded in a cloak of blood. Dripping steadily onto the floor. Drip, drop, drip, drop. Webs of the red gore hung from him, decorating his body in an elegant shade of crimson. He felt people moving him and smiled again. At least this world he was a part of now had one thing he could relate to. Beautiful. Elegant.  
Blood. 


End file.
